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Disaster. Destruction. Half-off at Philly AIDS Thrift. A campus drenched in dereliction. The culprit? Self-actualized twenty-year-olds pursuing their dreams.
For one reason or another, you find yourself at the bottom of Penn’s social hierarchy. That’s ok. Maybe you’re ugly or from a weird state. Nothing you can really change.
It’s just the type of thing that gives me pause. I thought they were supposed to encourage us, inspire us, and embolden us. But like… that wasn’t the case.
If you didn’t know that Penn offers study abroad opportunities in the likes of England, France, Tel Aviv, Hong Kong, and Queensland, fear not. Even if you narrowly avoided being automatically enrolled in the Penn Global listserv, as long as you don’t live under a rock, you are likely to be informed by your peng you in Shanghai (who has a VPN), amigo in in Barthelona, or amica in Florence that they are eating better than you, taking easier classes, drinking more legally, and becoming more well-traveled by the second. In fact, you are likely to receive study abroad announcements from your entire social network, whether you care or not, by way of Instagram stories, BeReals (do they have that in a third world place like London?), and of course, I would be remiss to exclude the study abroad (public) diaries that my compadres have created as homage to their voyäges. Whenever I see medieval architecture, manicured gardens, foreign McDonald’s (trust me guys, it is SO good everywhere BUT America. You HAVE to try it. I LITERALLY go here everyday) on one of my “follower’s” stories, I make sure to swipe up and say, “Love the soft launch girl hope you are having sooooo much fun in Europe. Send me lots of pics!!!”
Literally licking the floor in glee, the same Philadelphia health inspectors that recorded 21 health violations in 1920 Commons last semester announced that they “take it all back” now that the dining hall moved the dessert section four feet to the left. “We were really disappointed with the state of Penn Dining last February,” stated health inspector Janice Janicsky. “But we were hopeful when Penn released a statement that they were ‘‘taking both immediate and long-term actions to ensure results like this do not occur again.’ Now, a whole semester later, I’m proud to see that they totally delivered by moving the dessert section just a mere four feet to the left.”
Contrary to what my creative writing professor and ex-seminar classmates may think, I actually totally understand the feminine gaze and women’s mindsets and am totally never misogynistic.
A decisive blow that’s sure to usher in new social interactions and a newfound appreciation for small, working-class communities: Penn Admissions has accepted a scrappy young fellow into the Class of 2027. Indeed, Penn has demonstrated a commitment to providing access to academic excellence for underrepresented minorities, but the decision to accept a student from such a historically underserved region has only deepened the University’s commitment and marked it as an admissions pioneer among top institutions.
Come on bro. No way you can tell me you’re proud of that stream. That piss is yellow as hell.
Junior, Vanessa Sullivan, when asked by her Econ professor to explain her absence at the first three weeks of lecture, replied promptly and confidently with the following:
As a history student with a dual concentration in intellectual history and economic history and a forthcoming magnum opus on the history of female Marxists, I thought it would only be prudent to take a marketing class in Wharton. As Amy Wax will tell you, writing off your enemies lowers you down to their phenotype. We couldn’t have that!
Let me set the scene.
Stating they simply can’t bring themselves to live in an on-campus apartment, Sophomore Gabby Davis is still very passionate about the housing crisis in the UC Townhomes. “It’s just crazy how limited available housing is these days,” Davis said as she walked from her Chestnut apartment living room, past the guest bedroom, and into her master bedroom. “Greed and capitalism have taken over our empathy.”
Last night, a semi-circle of freshmen shared their most vulnerable feelings of insecurity, doubt, homesickness, and imposter syndrome right outside McClelland Dining and Sushi. Yet, in the freshmen tradition of late-night trauma dumping on friends they had only met a week before, it became apparent that one student’s imposter syndrome was incredibly stupid and lame when compared to the others’ more valid and cool imposter syndrome. Like, why were they even in the circle? They literally don’t belong here.
It's probably happened to you. And if it hasn't already, it's about to. You're going about your life as a super chill undergraduate. Next thing you know you go home for the weekend, and you're stricken by an ear infection. Your mom urges you to go to your doctor. Let's face it. You probably haven't been in that office since you had to get a physical to play JV volleyball. The walls of the office are covered in murals of safari animals. There are framed finger paintings in the exam room. Some woman in her twenties looks at you and the kids playing in the waiting room and asks "Which one is yours?"
Hey, what’s up you guys! I just got off my flight to Philadelphia International Airport from Heathrow, and I’m really excited to show everyone my upcoming Fall semester, going off the beaten path and (drumroll please) … studying abroad! I know, I know. I am a person simply consumed by wanderlust, and most people wouldn’t understand why I would want to abandon my campus and my friends for many months. I know, I’m different.
Rush season on college campuses across the United States is not a time of holiness. Sinning runs rampant; intoxication, fornication, and spiritual deprivation all accompany “Meeting the Bros” or “dirty rushing.” Any word preceded by “dirty” is not an activity that a good Christian soul should partake in. However, there is a way to do away with this filth and rush piously, how Jesus would. Here are seven tips to rush in the same vein as the Messiah:
I’d take the liberty of calling myself a fairly observant person. I’ve indeed noticed the empty condom Ziplocs stapled to the walls of my residential house’s hallways (the ones labeled “safe sex is great sex!”, you know the deal). I’ve taken note of the glowing red LED strip lights in the windows of the highrises. Sometimes the banging noises coming from my upstairs neighbor become a bit too rhythmic.
I love fairs. Fair play, fairlife, fair trial, fair trade, renaissance fair, oktoberfest, Iowa State Fair, etc. etc. The only thing that I love more than fairs and the right to bear arms is clubbing. There is truly nothing better than paying twenty dollars for entry, twenty dollars for a tequila sunrise, twenty dollars for an Uber, not to mention sixty dollars for an ID that says you’re above twenty. That’s what I call putting your money where your mouth is. As my going out group (we went to Spades together last Friday and have vowed to only go out with each other from here on out) will tell you, I’m really great at doing mental math, even when I’m 2 Solo cups in. So I can tell you that the money I spend when I go clubbing amounts to 480,000 times the fun.
Folks, it’s that time of year again. Jobs, abroad, employment, studies, careers, travels, etc. all require a letter of recommendation! And if you are like me and need a little inspiration, here are some ideas:
On June 29th, 2023, the Supreme Court of the United States decided in Students for Fair Admissions v. Harvard that race-based affirmative action violated the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment, effectively ending affirmative action in the U.S. as we know it. It’s been over two months since the decision, and as the Class of 2028 prepares their college applications in an uncertain, post-SFFA landscape, Under the Button sat down with three Penn students from all walks of (upper-class) life and asked: